


what will you give?

by introher



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Church Sex, Corruption, Creampie, Dacryphilia, Demon Deals, Demon/Human Relationships, F/M, Hair-pulling, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sacrilege, back shots, demon! tendou, unholy acts in a church
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:28:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28996716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/introher/pseuds/introher
Summary: he comes with the smell of tears- painted desperation drips so sweetly from you. he just has to take a taste.
Relationships: Tendou Satori/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	what will you give?

**i saw you crying in the chapel.**  
he thinks you’re beautiful.  
morning light breaking into a hundred peices against your skin, catching in your hair- running down with each tear.  
it’s the smell of you that brings him out, the sweetness of your tears falling against the floor.  
he walks toward you, soft footfalls echoing into the cold and empty chapel.  
“its a shame, isnt it?” he calls to you, watching your head lift from the safety of your hands, peering at him with wide and glossy eyes. he can see the remnants of your pain, of your despair- of all the unanswered prayers leaking down your palms, running down your arms and face.  
“they _never_ answer.” even he sounds sad, a stark contrast to the way his lips have curled into a small smile. you might think it’s for comfort, but it’s mocking, challenging a higher power to stop him from taking you.  
and of course, they won’t.  
the words have died in your mouth long ago- nothing tumbles from your lips as he nears, not with the way he leans down and offers you a hand, despite the pain and desperation still pooled in every crease of your palm.  
head tilted down to offer a sense of comfort, letting you know he wasnt there to hurt you, lulling you into a false sense of security. it didnt seem to take much to convince you, he supposes its why he liked picking the ones on the cusp of hopelessness.  
hands meet and you dont catch the way his already vibrant hair seems to catch every refraction of light pouring through the stained glass.  
there’s a smell of smoke permeating the air, it’s faint, but it makes you want more- gentle tugging brings you close to him.  
with glazed eyes, you look up at him, captivated in how beautiful the color is. you don’t see or hear his lips move as he recites scripture over and over. looking down at you in the same stupefied manner- lust and hunger lurking behind his actions.  
“ _ye shall overthrow their altars_.” he prays all the while releasing your hand, capturing your chin instead- tipping your head up to look at the concaved ceiling.  
“ _and break their pillars_.” his hand crawls up your neck, curling around your pulse points, tips of his fingers finding purchase in the hook of your jaw.  
“ _and burn their groves with fire_.” the gentle lull of his voice keeps you silent and still, even as he squeezes, even as he leans down and clasps his lips around your throat, a tongue much too thin and wet to be considered normal laving up, up and up.  
the taste of him is heavy, something like ash and it nearly burns, it’s pure heat being exhaled into your lungs and it makes you dizzy.  
gentle and shaky hands come up to hold onto his shoulders, a contrast to how he takes your mouth. pure lust and want make you crumble against him, eyes closed in the feeling of something wet swiping against your lips.  
it’s not a tongue, not a tongue by human standards, but it doesn’t scare you, not even when he curls it into your waiting mouth, swiping against your teeth.  
you’re good, he thinks as you’re pulling him in closer. not afraid, unwavering as he lifts you up.  
an unholy being like him shakes as you cry out a plea- turning to him in solace. it’s what he feeds off, makes his skin tingle, fire inside him stroked as you settle your hips against his own.  
“give me your name.” he whispers, pulling away from the sweetness of your mouth. the heavy heat of his breathing fans down over your lips and chin.   
“y/n.” it’s uttered almost too easily, he knows you know there’s something off about him, but you still give it to him.  
it makes him tip his head back, the moment you speak your name- he moans out into the chapel- the lust addled tone of voice seems to vibrate off the walls, deepening as it echoes, all before it returns back to your ears in the form of a growl. he whispers your name again and again, the hands holding onto your thighs sink in deeper with each time.  
he brings you down, palms roaming up your legs, up your side- to rest at either sides of your neck once more.  
“what would you give me, if i could take all your pain away?” satori breathes onto your lips, slithering his ‘tongue’ up the trail of still wet tears, cold atop the warmth of your cheeks. with a sudden thought of strength- or something akin to it, you meet his vermillion eyes. glossy eyes of yours fluttering down to his mouth when he snakes the appendage out, thin and purple and forked, to lick against his lips, swiping up sweet remnants of your saliva.   
his eyes widen slightly when you turn around silently, pushing the sweet little sunday dress up and over the curve of you, leaning over to rest your palms against the cold and ungiving wood of a pew. he cant think of the last time he was ever rendered speechless or surprised, to think a little, broken, soft human like you was the one to stop all thoughts makes him shiver, head tipping back to chuckle freely.  
it doesnt take long for him to sink into you, hand clasping up to entangle long fingers in your hair, pulling you up to hear him- words branded onto your naked skin with each thrust. nails scrape the lacquer off the wood, held tightly in your hands as he takes you.  
you’ve never felt this good, there’s pure pleasure crawling up your back, traveling along your spine and down each limb. screams leave your drooling mouth freely, hoping, wanting someone to come see what this… man is doing to you.  
he fucks the wetness out of you, splattering it against his feet, it runs down your legs and your orgasm brings more tears- the smell of it twisting in with the cum still pouring out of your battered pussy. he brings you to a point of overstimulation that might be too much, body slumping against his hold, kept upright by only the entanglement of his fingers in your tresses and the hold planted firmly onto your neck.  
he starts the prayer once more, wanting to see the verse through- he thinks the words are real pretty, likes the way he can feel the eyes of holy beings drill into the back of his head while he takes you.  
“ _ye shall hew down the graven images of their gods_.” satori pants directly into your ear, not stopping despite the way you thrash against him, this was the price you had to pay- a small exchange of your own essence in order for him to truly heal you.  
how could anyone think that a being of pure carnal lust- born from sin couldn’t do a better job of repairing the soul of a dirty and inherently sinful human?  
he would take it- take you and break you down, orgasm by orgasm, bring you on the cusp of unconsciousness- before truly mending the pain and hurt.  
he begins the tugging of your hair once more, moving your head to look directly ahead- blurry eyes focus on the sad image of a cross.  
“ _and destroy the names of them out of that place_.” he finishes, pushing into you with the final thrust, cumming inside you with a ferocity that has it squirt from where you’re connected.  
it joins your own, puddles of it coagulating in clumps as it drops down from your cunt.  
“say my name-” satori whispers, and despite not uttering it once, you know it.  
“satori.” it leaves you with ease, it sounds like honey and it rumbles in the walls around you.  
his body shakes behind you, and you whimper with the way his hold tightens.  
“you’re mine.” he barks, hysterical and loud, facing directly at the altar- smiling wickedly when the chapel seems to bend, twist, and shake… all before settling back down.  
you sound so sweet, crying out his name in reverence, seeking the warmth of his being- the warmth he could provide.  
claiming you, keeping your soul in his filthy hands was the best thing he’s done in a while, and all because:  
“ **he saw you crying in the chapel.** ”

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on tumblr! @introloves


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